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User blog:SkyrimsShillelagh/Twelve Stars of Taneth: Chapter 3
Chapter 2 Thanks for reading, as always, be wary of errors. For more background read these pages: Crimson Archer Daireg Whistles Keshik Reign of Chaos Chapter 3: The Return of the Crimson Archer The war room doors slammed open. Conner, Hakim, and Julius all turned towards it in an instant, heads on a swivel. Their father stood in the doorway, posing with his hands on his hips, legs apart, night gown swaying around him. “Heya, boys.” He greeted them, walking into the room. It was spacious, with tables lining that walls that had various dioramas or instruments on them to help with planning. The war room’s center was dominated by a massive topographic model map of Hammerfell. The lakes an seas had real water, the mountains and hills were made of real stone, and real grass and dirt composed the man body of it. Cities sat on it, recreated with accurate depictions, and little figures standing for different armed battalions, both Taneth’s armies and the armies of other, sat around the map. “Dad?” Hakim finally spoke up. “The one and only, father of the year, that’s me.” He declared stepping into the room, towards the table. “You guys playing with your toys? I thought you’d’ve grown out of that by now.” “What are you doing here?” Conner asked, folding his arms, right to the point. He was taller than Sahir was, by a few inches, and much broader too. Sahir didn’t know what he thought of that. “Taking a vacation from my vacation.” He told them, squeezing in between Hakim and Julius, forcing them to move, as he surveyed the table himself. “Know all about Tidon and his conquering. Can’t believe you guys let him do that.” “Who told you about Tidon?” Hakim asked, miffed. “I did.” Shayera announced as she walked in at a brisk pace as if trying to escape Aleera and Raine, who were right behind her. “He needed to know.” “Which she did especially after we all decided not to tell him.” Aleera said, gliding into the room as if on a cloud. She gracefully crossed to the outside of the map, directly across from Sahir, as if in opposition to him. He smirked at her, but composed himself as Raine joined Aleera. “He needed to know.” Shayera said, coming to stand next to her father, forcing Hakim further down the side of the table. “Needed to know?” Retorted Aleera. “He needed to stay on his farm. We don’t need him out of retire so he can look over our shoulders and complain.” “Well I want him here.” Shayera told her. “Unfortunate for you, because he’s leaving shortly.” “Still right here.” Sahir muttered, rolling his eyes. “Dad, it is good to see you.” Aleera began, looking directly at him. “But we don’t need your help. We can handle this on our own.” “Not what Shayera thinks.” The old man put in. “He leaves, I leave.” Shayera declared. “And you need me. Keshik are the only force capable of meeting the Janissaries on equal footing without having to draw too many soldiers away from the army.” Sahir surveyed the table, noticing what Shayera was saying. Many Oblivion Gates had opened inside Taneth’s borders, and many more outside them. The main body of Taneth’s infantry were guarding the Gates, holding back the tide of Daedric Invasion. The Keshik, although they served Taneth, were technically a private army. They didn’t take orders from the Taneth crown, but instead served only their leader, Shayera after Sahir had passed the mantle of the Crimson Archer to her. Shayera had taken a different name, however, since people probably would’ve noticed if the Crimson Archer magically became a girl. All three of his sons turned to look at Aleera at Shayera’s statement, as if expecting her deliberation on what was to be done next. That was a bit hurtful. He hadn’t been gone that long. Conner and Julius were identical twins. They had the same chiseled nose and jaw, caramel skin, defined brow, and well sculpted face—Imperial features more than Redguard ones. However, aside from the face, they were very different. Conner’s head was shaved, while Julius sported a fashionable Imperial hairstyle. Conner was taller and much more muscular, while Julius was thin and two inches shorter. Conner currently wore the uniform of the military commander of the Taneth armed forces, a red uniform with lots of sashes and badges and dangling things, while Julius was dressed in robes, the proper attire for the magical advisor to the king. They had been born under the signs of the warrior and the mage respectively, and both fit the roles they’d been born to well. Hakim looked different than them both. He was Sahir’s own height, and had more angular features. He was good-looking, but he had a finer bone structure and narrower face that gave him a more androgynous appearance than either of his younger brothers. He had never been particularly athletic, instead being bookish as a youth, and thus his build, while average, lacked any hardness to it. He wore the king's attire, a grand outfit composed of purples and blues along with a green orichalcum chestplate, and the crown sat a top his head. Sahir had never thought it fit right on Hakim, always too loose. Aleera sighed heavily. “Fine, he stays.” “Oh yeah, point one for team Sahir.” The former king declared, punching Shayera on the arm. “This is what’s happened.” Shayera began, leaning over the table. “Tidon pretty much has Gilane bagged. The Janissaries whooped their army and seized the city. They hold the wall, the keep, and Tidon managed to capture the royal family before they could escape and is keeping them as hostages. Even as we speak, he’s solidifying his position, having forts in Gilane surrender to him, and moving his own men in. In a few weeks, he’ll be in complete control.” “If he lasts a few weeks.” Conner spoke up. “Gilane’s allies are going to want blood. And our allies are going to want to fight them.” “He’s trying to plunge Hammerfell into war.” Sahir said, guessing correctly. “That’s what he told me.” Aleera said. “I think he believes if everyone’s weak enough he, or Taneth, can somehow come out on top.” “It’s smart, for someone who’s dumb enough to intentionally start a way.” Sahir pointed out, leaning over the table. “No one’s going to mobilize quickly. They’re still dealing with the Daedra as of now, but someone going to send an army someone else’s way soon enough.” “What do you want to do about that?” Shayera asked curiously. “Stop it before it happen.” Sahir said, surveying the table. “You can’t move the Keshik in on Gilane. I won’t have Tanes killing each other, but if Tidon thinks the Keshik are moving in, he’ll tighten his defenses. He’ll spread himself thin or do the reverse and pack his men too tightly at certain points. He’ll be too busy expecting an attack to expect anything else. And that’s when we can make our move.” “Our move?” Shayera prompted. “Well, obviously someone goes in and deals with Tidon, captures him somehow, and brings him and the Janissaries back. It’s perfect.” Sahir finished, looking up, and realized why it had been Shayera getting him to talk more. Everyone was just staring at him. “What?” He asked. “Normally planning isn’t so one-sided.” Conner stated, amused. “Usually we have to come up with an idea between all of us.” “And it takes longer too.” Julius added. “He hasn’t really said anything.” Aleera said, and Sahir wasn’t surprised she was the one to challenge him. “Dad, you gave a rough idea of what we could do. There’s no saying we’ll do it. Besides, how are we supposed to trick Tidon into thinking the Keshik are invading?” Sahir grinned. “Leave that trick to me.” ---- The war meeting dispersed and Sahir went his own way, his plan explained to his children. He intended to go visit Jeremias, and then perhaps rest in his own room. Despite his words, he had no desire to stay here. He wanted to return to the estate, and it’s quiet, untroubled ways. Footsteps sounded behind him, echoing up and down this grand hall of the palace. “Dad.” Shayera called after him, jogging slightly to catch up. “Shouldn’t you be gathering the Keshik? You’re who’s going to make what I had in store happen.” “I know what you said. What matters is what Taneth needs.” Shayera took a deep breath. “It needs the Crimson Archer.” Sahir cocked a brow, looking sideways at her. “What gives you that idea? And why do you think it’s a good one?” “If I show up at that tower, dressed in red, wearing my imitation of your uniform, it won’t mean anything. Tidon will see it as me acting under Aleera’s command. But if you show up, dressed as your old self, Tidon’ll know it’s you. And for the people of Taneth, who never learned who the Crimson Archer truly was, they’ll see it as a return of their champion in a time of need. Tidon’s gone rogue, Daedra are invading, life’s just generally getting worse. People need hope.” “I’m a relic, Shayera.” Sahir said. “Crimson died, really died, the night the Hall of Virtues burned down. I took the uniform off and said I wasn’t wearing it again. Besides, I don’t know if I could fit in it. Not quite so thin anymore, and quite so limber to go leaping around rooftops.” Shayera gave him a skeptical look. “I know you’re not as old as you think you are. You might be seventy, but you’re in the body of a fifty-year-old.” “That’s not so much of an improvement Shayera, whatever you might think.” Sahir said, not sounding convinced. “Look, dad, I know you have it in you.” Shayera said, taking his arm, and leading him down one of the hallways they were passing. He didn’t resist, figuring he’d humor her. She brought him to her room, which had been her’s since childhood. It was relatively bare, given she’d been on the road with the Keshik recently, and had come to visit him. Her belongings from the recent trip were piled in the corner. “I had porters drive down to the estate and pick my things up.” She said, guiding him to an old wooden chest, with a fastened iron latch. “I brought this with me, in case I could convince you there.” She explained, letting him go, and crouching to undo the latch on the chest, then pushed it open. She stood up and stepped back. Inside sat an old, ragged, scarlet uniform, very familiar to Sahir, with all its buckles, straps still attached. “How’d you get that?” He asked. “Be’kow found it up and brought it here. He gave it mom. She left it to me when she passed.” Sahir was silent for a moment. “Did you think this was going to convince me?” “No.” Shayera said, lifting the uniform out of the crate, revealing the sheathed ebony scimitar beneath it. The weapon itself was magnificent, unfitting for the plain leather sheath it sat in. She lifted the weapon open, and shoved it into his hands. “But that will. You explained to me once how it was to kill a person. When you were first teaching me the bow. You wanted to instill responsibility in me.” “’Hell of thing, killing a man. You take away every he had, everything he was, and everything he could be.’” Sahir murmured, remembering well. “I know you felt this was your responsibility.” She said, tapping the sword. “And you can’t just give that up. No matter how bad you want to. You can dodge the burden of the crown, dad, but you can’t avoid the people who need you. Giving up isn’t you.” Sahir sighed, glancing down. One last thing sat in the chest. A half-mask. The top half of the mask, the real part of it, covered the around the right eye and the area over the nose, the bottom half of the mask was a bit of leather that shielded the entire face. The mask left the are around the left eye exposed. Sahir stared at the mask, entranced by it. I’m not finished with you. The mask’s empty sockets seemed to say, staring back at him. And you’re not finished with me. You’re never finished with me. ---- Rindyar Tower sat alone on a hilltop. It was a stone watchtower, housed about a thousand two hundred men, and was massive in both height and width. The tower, perfectly cylindrical and made of massive blocks of stone, was an incredible feat of engineering. It was said to have been built by the Hiradirge, the Yokudan stone mages, when they’d first landed in Hammerfell. The tower was lit in the event an invading force beset upon Gilane from the east like, for example, Taneth. When Tidon had taken his Janissaries and marched upon Gilane, the signal had been lit. It hadn’t done much, but they had lit it. The Gilane army had surrendered the tower to the Janissaries, who now inhabited it. Two watchmen stood at the top of Rindyar. There were multiple watchmen up there, two looking off it in each direction, as the towers width required many be station at a time so they could see everywhere at once. They rotated every hour. In the middle of Rindyar’s top, was a large pile of firewood, which when lit would be the signal light. These two watchmen though, were the ones who looked east, in the event an army were to approach directly from there. An and army was. “Holy…” The first watchman muttered, leaning forwards and squinting. “Is that…?” The second leaned forward as well. “It’s a cavalry force.” A sizable number of men on horseback, impossible to tell how many from this distance, were approaching the tower at full gallop. “I’ve got to tell the commander.” The first watchman exclaimed, running to the stairwell. The second Janissary watched the horsemen draw closer, and recognized the red uniforms they wore: Keshik. “They’re actually attacking.” He muttered to himself, stunned. “I didn’t think they would.” The first watchman flew down the tight enclosed stairwell, to the floor below top. It was dim here, the only windows being arrow slits and the only light coming from torches sitting on walls. The watchman dashed past the tight living quarters on that floor, straight to the Commander’s office, and pushed the door open. “Sir, we’re under attack.” He declared, bursting in. The Commander looked up from his lunch. He was a large man, wearing a very nice red uniform, which matched the lavishness of his quarters adequately. “By whom?” The Commander asked impassively, rising, dabbing at his lips with a napkin. “Taneth, by the look of it. It’s the Keshik.” The Janissary answered, standing at attention. The Commander nodded. “We’ll light the signal fire, perhaps word will reach the Warden in time for him to prepare countermeasures.” The Commander rose, walking alongside his Janissary, and together the pair of them exited his office, heading to towards the roof. The sound of fighting reached them from the stairwell behind them, that led down to the lower floor. Blades were clashing, and the occasional grunt or shout could be heard. “How could they have breached the lower floors already?” The Commander asked, confused. “Come, we must be quick.” He told his subordinate, and together they hurried to the roof. Up there, all the other watchman had congregated on one side of the roof, the side the Keshik had originally been spotted from. They were looking directly down, fixed on whatever “What is this?” Demanded the Commander. “Return to your posts! Light the fire!” “Sir, look!” One of the watchmen pointed down. The Commander joined the watchman’s side, and looked. The bass of the tower was a swarm of cavalry. The Commander had no idea how many Keshik there were down there, but by the looks of it, they were outnumbered. The horsemen were galloping in circles around the tower, but hadn’t fired arrows yet. His own men hadn’t fired either, since he hadn’t issued an order yet. “They closed the distance quick.” The Commander noted. “They arrived at full gallop.” One of the watchmen explained. “They never slowed.” “Light the fire.” The Commander ordered for a third time, and now one of his Janissaries went off to do. “All of you, back to your stations.” The seven Janissaries by the edge of the roof back to disperse, peeling off to their positions, when an arrow suddenly flew out of nowhere and clunked one of them in the head. The Janissary in question toppled to the ground. The Commander and the other six turned to look at the arrow’s source. Standing at the top of the stairwell, was a man in red. He wore a uniform vaguely reminiscent of the Keshik, his face covered in mask made from steel and leather, with a hood up over his head. “Evenin’, gents.” He greeted them, dropping another Janissary with an arrow. The remaining four charged him, but they all hit the ground before they could reach him, the last sliding to a stop at his feet. The Commander bent down, and picked up one of the arrows he’d fired. “Blunt heads.” The Commander noted. “Count yerself lucky.” The man in red said, walking forwards. The Janissary who had been sent to light the signal fire finally did so, and he drew his sword and charged the archer. The archer took him down without even a glance in his direction. “If these arrows had heads then all yous would be missing yours.” The Commander drew his sword and began to approach the archer, meeting him halfway. The hooded figured tossed his bow aside and drew an ebony scimitar from the sheath at his hip. The weapon was a work of art. “You’re a master.” The Commander noted, taking stock of the elegant sword. “That mean you don’t wanna fight me?” The archer asked. “I’ve never killed a master before.” The Commander replied, stepping forward and swinging downward at him. The archer easily parried the simple attack and rammed an elbow into the Commander’s face. “Gagh!” The Commander growled, stumbling backwards and holding his bleeding nose. “I’m sort of figuring why.” The archer retorted smartly. “You little-“ The Commander snarled charging forward and slicing at him in a broad stroke. The archer leaned out of the way, the Commander whiffing air, and tripped the large man as he passed. The Commander face-planted, sword clattering from his hand. The Commander crawled towards sword, not done yet, but stopped when a boot was planted on his back. “What do you want?” The Commander demanded, his words garbled by the blood running down into his mouth. “Yer surrender. And for you to do something for me.” The Commander craned his head back to look at the archer, eyes alight with anger. The man seemed to smile behind his mask. “Tell Tidon the Crimson Archer says hello. Don’t actually, though. That’d be cliché.” The Commander seemed to have some reply about how what the Archer just said was actual cliché, but didn’t get the chance, as Crimson kicked him across the face before he could, knocking him unconscious. ---- Crimson said on horseback, watching as the Janissaries were funneled out of the tower, hands in the air, weapons surrendered. “Be sure to let some of them go. They’ll run and tell Tidon the whole Keshik is coming this way.” “They look surprised.” Shayera noted, on horseback as well alongside her father. “They didn’t expect to be beaten without a single arrow shot or sword swung. And they think a whole army of a couple thousand just showed up outta the blue.” Crimson remarked. “Gotta admit, pretty smart of me. Run’em around the tower so they think there’s more of’em than their are.” “Using five hundred men to take down a force twice it's size is impressive.” Shayera relented, giving him that. “Well wait until you see what else I have planned.” Crimson said. “Only just the beginning.” ---- Crimson sighed, as little people climbed all over him. When he’d told Juliette ‘sure, I’ll watch the babies for the afternoon’ he’d really meant ‘sure, I’ll go get plastered while I make Jeeves try to juggle, and the, like, twenty nursemaids we ‘ave watch the kids.’ Unfortunately, what Crimson hadn’t considered, was that the two children didn’t want to be with the nursemaids, and instead had cried nonstop. Crimson, normally, would’ve been fine with that, he figured it was good kids did all their crying real early so they’d run out of tears for later in life. But the nursery was right next to royal suite, so while Crimson was trying to laugh at Jeeves dropping expensive pottery, he had babies wailing in his ear. The nursemaids explained that they just wanted one of their parents, and they’d be content if they could stay in the room with Crimson. Now, he liked kids. He thought they were great. He loved the little dorks. He was good with them. What Crimson couldn’t do though, was actually take care of them. Kid cried, he just figured it was broken or something and maybe he had to turn it off and then turn it back on. So, instead of getting wasted, he had to spend his time with smelly little’uns, who didn’t really seem to want to do anything back crawl around on him, chew on things, and try to murder themselves. Apparently he was a criminal for not letting Aleera and Qadara climb into the fireplace. He practically got showered in tears for not letting them burn alive. Eventually, however, Crimson got them under control, and they wore out fairly quickly once he got them to run or crawl after him. Crimson wondered if he’d been as much of a goof when he as a baby. Probably not. He made’em all comfortable in the master bed, told Jeeves to come get him if anything happened, because Crimson was going to grab something eat. He snuck outside the royal bedchambers, quietly, because he was pretty sure babies had supersonic ears, and was halfway to the kitchen before he ran into Juliette. “Jewels?” He said, taking her by the shoulder and holding her at arms length, “I thought you was supposed to be at--” he did a quick scan of his thoughts to try and remember where she had told him she was going. The neckline of her dress had been low, so he hadn’t been paying attention. Her fault, really. “I got back early.” She told him before he could pretend to remember. Feew, close one. “Oh, that’s good.” Crimson said, smiling briefly. “Come’on, I was just getting something to eat.” He told her, taking her hand and dragging her along towards the kitchen. She resisted for a minute, before giving in and letting him drag her along. They walked in silence for bit, which Crimson thought was weird, because Juliette always wanted to talk to him about something, but he didn’t mind it. Someone’d been telling Crimson the other day that silence was another kind of music, so in a way he and Juliette were making their own which he knew she’d think was properly romantic, but to tell ‘er that he’d have to break the silence, so instead he was quiet until they got to the kitchen and by then he’d forgotten what he was going to tell her. Telling the cooks what they wanted, they ate in silence, sitting across from each other at one of the tables the chefs prepared food on. She just stared at him. “I got something on my face or something?” Crimson asked, rubbing a thumb on his cheek. “You are so interesting.” Juliette remarked, resting her chin on her fist. Crimson gave her a funny look. “Well ‘course I am. Don’t get much more interesting than me.” He replied, unsure how he was supposed to answer that. “I never know what to make of you.” She said. “Tell me, does your disease still hurt you?” Crimson frowned. He hadn’t talked about this with her for a long time. Why bring it up now? “Not really. ‘Mean, I still get twinges sometimes, but I potions I make from Whistles’ horns do real good. Don’t even think about it most times.” “Fascinating.” Juliette murmured. “I’ve never encountered anyone like you.” “Look, Jewels, stop being weird.” Crimson said, holding up his hand. “It ain’t funny. Let me be the weird one.” “Sorry.” She laughed, leaning back in her seat. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” “No, no, it’s alright.” He said, smiling slightly at her. “So, how was that thing you went to?” He asked. “This morning, what happened?” “The thing? Oh, it was, you know, good. I liked it. I think we got some good work done.” Crimson nodded. “Ah.” He said falling silent, eating some more of the food the cook’s’d set out for him. He stared over his plate at her, but she didn’t seem to notice. He took her inn: the glossy blackness of her hair, perfect olive skin, a heart-shaped face with a delicate brow and jaw line, complimented by soft cheekbones… “Do you want to have to have sex?” He asked her off-handedly, his mouth full. Juliette looked up and shrugged. “Sure.” “A-''HA!” Crimson shouted, jumping to his feet, and pointing at her. “I got you!” “What?” Juliette asked, confused. “Juliette would ''never agree to it like that. And she didn’t go to a ‘thing,’ she went to inspect the new roadway because I was too lazy. Which, by the way, is five hours away, so she hasn’t even arrived there yet. He glanced down at her chest. “Also I can’t see your boobs. That’s what really tipped me off.” Not-Juliette smiled wide. “I see I will not beat you in this medium.” “Who are you?” Crimson demanded. “What do you want from me? How are you impersonating people?” “I’m your opposite, Crimson Archer. Your Adversary.” It told him in Juliette’s voice, and it was totally creepy because he could see now it wasn’t her looking at from behind those eyes. “And I will defeat you. Eventually.” Crimson wanted to lunge across the table and punch the thing or attack it or something, but it was difficult, when it looked like the woman you loved. “Well you can keep on trying. I chalk this up as victory number three for me. And next time you show up, I’ll be ready.” The Adversary smiled, and it was just as eerie seeing it smile with Juliette's mouth as it was to hear it speak with her voice. “I hope you will.” And then it vanished into thin air, right before his eyes. He’d first met it over a year ago, when it had impersonated Heartbender, then four months later as Elis Oakvale, and now eleven months later after that. There was no pattern to it. It simply showed up when it wanted. Probably another part to his tests, to keep him guessing. Crimson didn’t know what it was, or what it wanted, but it wasn’t going to get the best of him again. And he had a pretty good idea of what to do about it. END OF PART 3 Chapter 4 Category:Blog posts Category:Stories Category:Twelve Stars of Taneth